


three dozen roses sitting in the backseat couldn't compare to you

by johniaurens



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Just gals being pals, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johniaurens/pseuds/johniaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you doing this?” asks Maria, and it's tiny, insecure, scared, and Eliza gives her a tight smile. “Because I want to do what's right. Because I worry about you. Because my idiot husband ruins things and I refuse to let him ruin this. Because I care.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	three dozen roses sitting in the backseat couldn't compare to you

**Author's Note:**

> theres not enough f/f in this fandom i have decided so here is my shitty contribution 
> 
> who gives a shit about canon seasons or birth years. yell at me if i have portrayed anything in a Bad way please 
> 
> idk why they made pesto pasta. i dont even like pesto pasta.
> 
> titles from broke by bear attack

Eliza knocks on her door on a stormy Saturday. 

“I'm sorry,” is the first thing Maria says when she opens the door. Eliza raises one eyebrow, takes a step forward, and Maria steps back, lets her come in. 

Maria's house is tidy, small, and clean. It doesn't look like anyone lives there – white furniture, shiny hardwood floors. Something clinical about it. Eliza takes off her sopping wet coat, toes off her shoes, sits down on the couch gingerly. Maria disappears into the kitchen, comes back with two mugs of tea.

The silence stretches. Maria sits down on one of the arm chairs facing the couch. 

“I'm not angry at you,” says Eliza eventually, fingers wrapped around her mug of tea. Maria's sitting very still, spine straight, stiff, holding her own mug with a death grip. Eliza stirs her tea. “I'm angry at _him_. He should have known better. You, though,” she muses, and Maria twitches as if expecting to be hit, “I'm worried about you. Are you okay?”

Eliza's not quite smiling and Maria doesn't meet her eyes. Pulls on the loose string at the hem of her sweater.

“Why are you doing this?” asks Maria, and it's tiny, insecure, scared, and Eliza gives her a tight smile. “Because I want to do what's right. Because I worry about you. Because my idiot husband ruins things and I refuse to let him ruin this. Because I care.” 

Maria looks away.

-

The shiny exterior doesn't crack. Maria doesn't stop apologizing. Eliza keeps coming over, keeps trying to get her to talk.

Maria keeps giving her tea. Maria keeps not talking about it.

-

**Angelica**  
She's not ready, Eliza. You're the wife of the man she had an affair with.  
Give her time. She's been through a lot. Respect her boundaries.

 **Eliza**  
Yeah  
I just worry for her

**Angelica**  
This isn't your job.   
They arrested her husband, btw.   
Like, they're actually charging him with shit now  
Shit that'll get him put away for a long time

**Eliza**  
Wait  
He's going away? For sure?

**Angelica**  
Yes

-

Eliza finds herself, once again, standing on Maria's doorstep. It's a beautiful day, sunny, warm, and Maria opens the door dressed in a sunflower dress. She looks beautiful and Eliza smiles.

“Hey,” she says, “I come bearing gifts.”

And she does. Maria's eyes widen at the box of cookies she pulls out of her bag, and Eliza cracks her a smile, gets in. Toes off her heels, hisses at how good the cool hardwood floor feels against her feet. Maria watches her, a smile on her lips, takes her and the cookies to the kitchen. 

They open a bottle of wine and eat way more cookies than they should, and Maria talks more than Eliza's ever heard her talk in one go, talks about her husband and talks about her family and Eliza nods solemnly. At one point Maria goes quiet and Eliza puts her hands over Maria's over the table, looks her in the eye. “Maria,” she says, very seriously, “I wish, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, I wish all the best for you. You deserve to be happy.” 

Maria tacklehugs her on her way out and Eliza's so shocked she hugs back, instinctively. Maria kisses her cheek. Eliza puts her heels back on, walks home. 

It feels like the world has started shifting.

-

Eliza drags Maria to the farmers market because fresh produce is the only thing Eliza believes in more strongly than the power of love and because Maria has not left her house in weeks. She's cautious, keeps to herself, and Eliza tries not to push, really tries, keeps suggesting things to her, points out the beautiful tomatoes and the fresh basil, feeds her a strawberry, and Maria laughs, Maria smiles, Maria talks with her hands when she gets excited and Eliza's soaking it all up like a sponge, soaking in her happiness.

They get back to Maria's house, hips knocking into each other, Eliza squealing “no, no, no, Maria, _the lemonade_ ,” because there _is_ a thing of lemonade in her bag and it's glass and if she drops it it'll break, and Maria knocks into her with slightly more force and Eliza has to lean against the wall of a building for a minute because she's laughing too hard to keep upright. Maria's watching her with a small but genuine smile on her face. It tugs at Eliza's heartstrings. 

Eliza turns on the radio and sings along to whatever songs she recognizes, starts peeling garlic and puts the pasta water on the stove and Maria watches, and Eliza says “you could rinse the basil,” and Maria does. Eliza chops up cherry tomatoes and asks Maria to taste them. They're summer-sweet, deep red. The best kind. 

Maria agrees. The best kind. Eliza chooses to ignore the way she looks at her when she says it. 

Maria starts opening up somewhere between cutting the Parmesan into smaller pieces for the pesto sauce and the timer for the pasta going off. By opening up Eliza doesn't necessarily mean sharing details of her terrible past and shit, more so that she starts _talking_ , starts saying things like “I've never really had pesto before,” and Eliza says “God, I got so tired of it growing up I only just started eating it again,” and Maria smiles, genuine, wide. 

She's opening up. She's coming out of her shell. She's accepting Eliza as – as a friend. Not necessarily a confidant. A friend. That's enough. 

Maria lets Eliza cuddle her while they watch shitty TV, tucks her head underneath Eliza's chin.

-

Maria loves Star Trek. Eliza doesn't but that's okay. Maria gets excited enough to gesture enthusiastically every time someone even mentions the whole thing, and Eliza thinks it's adorable. She's adorable.

Maria also loves caramel popcorn, and that's something Eliza's ready to agree on. Eliza shows her her favorite recipe and Maria shows her hers. Maria's is better. Eliza nuzzles her face into Maria's shoulder like a cat until she makes more. 

Maria also loves Chopped, which, Eliza supposes she can learn to like, and she does, it turns out. Maria realizes that most of it is on Netflix and calls Eliza just to scream to her about it, hangs up, sprints to Eliza's house and screams a little bit more. They sprawl over Eliza's carpeted living room floor and binge watch for four hours. Eliza puts her hand in Maria's hair, starts braiding it half-heartedly.

They find a balance. Chopped. Caramel popcorn. Eliza gets to cuddle Maria, which Maria agrees to with an exaggeratedly suffering sigh. As revenge Eliza tickles her until she's in tears.

-

Eliza and Alex drift apart. It's been a long time coming, honestly, and Eliza feels like she should want to fix it, should want to stay together just for the sake of familiarity, but she doesn't. Alex kisses her on the cheek and leaves his ring on the kitchen table for her to get rid of. Doesn't take it with him. Some sort of stubborn independence about that. Fierce need to not depend on anyone.

They stay friends. Eliza doesn't stop loving him, and she knows he doesn't stop loving her either. It's just not the same. No use crying over what was good for a long while. Something poetic about that.

Maria invites her over, and they talk about it because Maria's good at talking about other people's issues and Eliza's good at talking, and Maria offers her wine and Eliza says “oh, no, thank you, I'm good,” but Maria insists and Eliza accepts and they drink and talk and Maria braids her hair while tears run down Eliza's face as she stares at her ringless finger. Not really sad, per se. Hollow. Detached. 

Maria tucks her into bed, kisses her forehead. Eliza holds out her hands until Maria relents, lies down next to her. 

Her breath is sweet against the nape of Eliza's neck, hands light over his waist. She's warm. Solid. Eliza tries to drift. Maria keeps pulling her back up just by her presence.

-

**Maria**  
Hey

 **Eliza**  
Hey, what's up?

**Maria**  
Nothing  
Just wondering if you were up

**Eliza**  
It's 8pm  
Yes I'm up

**Maria**  
Shut up  
Do you want to come over

**Eliza**  
Are you ok

**Maria**  
Yeah don't worry   
I just bought a lot of popcorn  
Like, a lot. I wont be able to eat all of this not even in 50 years  
Wanna make caramel popcorn and watch Chopped  
We can have a slumber party. Let's watch Chopped for 9 straight hours and yell at every single white man that acts like he's better than everyone else 

**Eliza**  
I love you I am on my way  
Can I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in or something   
And socks  
I'm severely underprepared for this slumber party I literally just got up and left  
I'm wearing a dress and crocs your neighbors are staring 

**Maria**  
LOL of course  
What that's a beautiful outfit  
Nothing to stare at  
Maybe they're just admiring you

**Eliza**  
Thank you  
And yes probably   
Did I mention they're the hot pink ones

**Maria**  
What are friends for   
And no but that sounds lovely

**Eliza**  
I'm here and ready for popcorn open your door

-

Maria tastes like salt and caramel and Eliza buries her hands in her hair. Maria puts her hands on Eliza's waist as if she's trying to keep herself upright.

-

June turns into July. Eliza drags Maria to the farmer's market by her hand, points at everything she likes and Maria looks at her like she's being silly, and maybe she is, but it's a fond look and Eliza doesn't mind, gets fresh cilantro and tomatoes and talks to the people, introduces Maria to everyone. Maria in her stupidly oversized sun hat, in her black romper, in her white sneakers. Maria's freckles and her pointy nose that Eliza now gets to kiss.

They make salsa and Eliza hogs the chips and Maria wrestles her for them. Eliza licks salsa off Maria's chin when they're quite finished with that, Maria with the chips in her lap and Eliza with Maria in hers. Maria squeals, goes to hide her face, but Eliza's not one to back down from a challenge.

Eliza emerges victorious, licks a long stripe down her chin. The salsa she manages to get off her skin tastes more like her perfume, overpowering, alcohol-y. Makes her want to sneeze. It's gross but it's the principle of it. Eliza can't just let it go. Maria grumbles from somewhere beneath her on the couch. Eliza braids her hair. Maria lets her. 

Maria has soft hands and careful fingers and Eliza kisses her knuckles when she cries, which she does, out of the blue sometimes. A trickle, sometimes. Other times, a river heavy with summer storm water. She tastes like gun powder and resilience.

-

**Angelica**  
Someone told me something

 **Eliza**  
Really

**Angelica**  
You're supposed to tell me when you start dating someone Eliza  
I'm disappointed  
Also send pictures. Y'all are cute 

**Eliza**  
I'm turning my phone off now   
Goodbye

**Angelica**  
I'm really happy for you  
I love you

**Eliza**  
Thank you  
I love you

-

There's something oddly liberating about climbing up to the roof like this. It's the middle of the night, just warm enough to not need pants or shoes so they don't bother, climb up in their t-shirts and underwear. Maria's house is hidden by trees in a way that allows her to see everyone but doesn't let anyone see her. Eliza's brings a rolled up blanket they spread over the roof, lie down on it. Maria climbs up with two classes of wine and animal crackers.

“Sh,” says Maria when they get settled down and Eliza laughs loudly at something happening down the street, “quiet. Don't wake up the stars.” Eliza raises one eyebrow but she shuts her mouth, takes a sip of her wine. Wiggles her toes. Maria squeezes into her lap, shuffles around until she's comfortable. Eliza puts her free hand on her waist to hold her there.

“I used to think that my life was over,” whispers Maria. Eliza wraps her arm around her tighter. She knows that feeling, knows what it's like to be twenty two and think that nothing in her life could be better than the present. Eliza's twenty four now, still feels it deep in her gut. It feels heavier coming from Maria. “Your life's not over,” she says back, quiet. So they don't disturb the stars. 

“I know,” says Maria, “I know.” Eliza kisses her, soft. 

Not over. Just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr / twitter @lcfayctte im always dty (down to yell)


End file.
